


A Passing Fancy

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [47]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, Community: kink_bingo, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:59:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil makes a bet with Jasper. Clint wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Passing Fancy

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Crossdressing

"I could still pass."

"In your dreams!"

"No, seriously, I could. If I needed to."

"Phil, you're 47 and balding, there's no way on earth you'd fool anyone into thinking you were anything other than a washed-up old drag queen," said Jasper Sitwell with a snort.

Phil's pride was hurt. They'd been going through the quarterly assessment scores for the latest batch of recruits, and that had led to talking about old times, and all the things that had changed since they joined SHIELD. One of which was the fact that junior agents no longer went through what was officially known as "Gender disguise training," and un-officially called "Drag class." There had been a lot fewer female SHIELD recruits back then, and it was considered a useful skill for male agents to have. They'd all done two weeks' training on hair, make-up, clothing, walking in heels, and remembering which washroom to use.

Phil had worked as hard at it as he worked at everything he did, and excelled at it the way he'd excelled at just about every other aspect of his SHIELD training. 

"Wanna bet?"

Jasper's eyes narrowed. "You're serious, you really think you could still pass?"

"I'm sure of it."

"OK, you're on. Loser buys the winner a bottle of Macallan."

"The 15-year-old or the 18-year-old?" Phil asked; there was a hundred bucks difference in those three years.

"Just how confident are you?"

"Confident enough to bet for a bottle of the 18-year-old."

"It's your funeral. Or rather, your excruciatingly embarrassing burlesque show. So, terms..."

They argued the finer points of the wager for the next ten minutes, and then Phil, being Phil, insisted they write it down and sign it. He put the piece of paper in an envelope, sealed it, and signed again across the flap.

"I'll let you know where, and when," he said.

"You do that, sucker." Jasper was entirely confident that he was already up a $250 bottle of Scotch.

~~~~~

Clint and Phil were eating lunch together in the commissary. As they finished up, Phil said,

"Jasper and I are meeting up for a drink at The Waterfront after work tonight, do you want to come along?"

"Sure. What time?"

"Probably around 6:30, we can grab something to eat there, OK?"

"Sounds good." 

The Waterfront was a company bar that SHIELD owned, operated, and maintained. The entire place was permanently wired for sound & video. All the bartenders, servers, and kitchen staff were vetted SHIELD employees. It was useful for establishing cover, meeting informants, and training new recruits and junior agents. On any given night, half the patrons would be SHIELD employees, either on the clock or off. It also had some of the best onion rings in town. 

Clint spent his afternoon working out in the gym, practicing at the range, catching up on paperwork, and then hanging out in R&D with the techs who built his trick arrows. At six he showered and changed, and at a quarter past he wandered over to Phil's office, and was surprised to find it locked up tight. 

"He left a couple of hours ago, said he had some errands to run."

Clint thought that was weird, so he pulled out his phone and sent a text,

'We still on @ W 18:30?'

A couple of minutes later he got a reply,

'Yes. I might be a bit late. Running errands.'

Clint pocketed his phone and strolled over to the bar. Halfway there his phone beeped and he looked at the message, this time from Jasper, 'Running late, be there @ 7' It was a busy Friday night, and most of the tables were already full of people eating, so Clint took a stool at the bar. Clint nodded 'hello' to a couple of people that he knew and ordered a beer and a plate of onion rings. He'd worry about real food when Phil and Jasper showed up. 

He kept one eye on the door and sipped his beer and relaxed and waited. He was good at waiting. There was movement at the door and he glanced over - not Phil or Jasper, a woman. He went back to his onion rings.

A few moments later the woman slid onto the bar stool next to him, accidentally jiggling his elbow as she did. He didn't spill his beer.

"Sorry. Been a long day."

She was older, at least 50, with shoulder-length rusty blond hair (dyed, thought Clint) and too much make-up. She looked vaguely familiar, probably a SHIELD employee. Clint smiled an inoffensive 'no harm done' smile, and glanced back at the door. At this rate, they were going to have trouble getting a table when Phil and Jasper finally showed up.

"Buy me a drink?"

Clint turned back to the woman beside him, his 'polite to strangers' face already in place.

"Sorry, I'm, ah... meeting someone."

"Lucky girl," said the woman, giving him an appraising look that made him slightly uncomfortable. Clint tried to think of where he knew her from... the Admin pool or HR or Records...

"Guy, actually." Clint normally wouldn't say that, but he wanted to discourage her interest in him.

"Just my luck, as they say, the gorgeous ones are always either taken or gay, or in your case, both." She signaled the bartender, and something about the way she moved caught Clint's attention. 

The bartender came over, and while she was busy ordering, Clint watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye, while making it look, for all the world, that the only things he was interested in were his onion rings and his beer. Medium height heels, mid-calf dowdy beige skirt, long-sleeved black blouse with a funny poofy neck bow and rhinestones at the collar and cuffs. Red-painted nails. Purse over her far shoulder. The heavy make-up he had noticed earlier...

The bartender put a drink down in front of her and Clint waited until she had taken a swallow and put the drink back down on its coaster before saying quietly,

"Is there an op I don't know about, Phil?"

"How long did it take you?" Phil asked, just as quietly.

"When you were ordering your drink. Your hand and wrist on the bar. I've seen it so many times in that exact position, I'd recognize the back of your hand anywhere. I knew for sure when you swallowed your drink, the way your Adam's apple bobs. What's going on Phil?"

Phil didn't answer, instead he said, "That good enough for you Jasper?" and took another sip of his drink. Then he turned to Clint and said,

"Please don't be mad."

"Mad about what?"

"Jasper and I made a bet."

Clint thought about that for a second. "You won, right?"

"Of course I won."

"OK, then I'm not mad. What did you win, something really good I hope?"

Jasper appeared behind them and put one hand on each of Phil's and Clint's shoulders.

"An 18-year-old, $250 bottle of Scotch. Remind me to quit betting with your boyfriend, willya?"

"You've known him a lot longer than I have, Sitwell, if you haven't learned by now, you're not going to."

"He has a point," Phil said mildly.

"Shut up. I'll get you your bottle by Friday. And now I shall leave you two to your evening. Don't do anything I wouldn't do..."

"Considering that you already got my boyfriend into drag, Sitwell, I'm not sure there's anything left that you wouldn't do."

Sitwell gave both shoulders one last squeeze and headed out of the bar.

"Onion ring?" Clint asked, sliding the basket over towards Phil.

"You're really not mad? I was kind of afraid you might be. I thought it might count as lying to you," Phil said quietly.

"Nah, it's just a prank, for a bet. I get some of the Scotch, though, right?"

"Since when do you drink Scotch?"

"Since you sat down next to me wearing lipstick, apparently," Clint said, as he watched Phil try to eat onion rings without messing up his mouth.

"Finish your drink. Let's get out of here. I've only had these shoes on for 20 minutes and already my feet are killing me."

"I'm going to tell Nat you said that. This way, my dear," Clint said, climbing off his bar stool and courteously offering Phil his arm.

"You really don't mind this?"

"What's to mind? You're just dressed up, that's all. Remember where I come from, Phil. I was raised by people that the world thought were freaks because their bodies didn't look exactly right. Much as I love to look at you, when you look like you, that is, it's what's on the inside that really counts for me."

They had walked to a cabstand near the bar, and climbed into the first one in line.

"And when I look like this?" Phil was talking quietly in the back of the cab as it sped towards their house.

"What do you mean?"

"You said that you liked to look at me when I looked like me, what do you think of me when I look like this?"

"Well, you're not as attractive as a woman, sorry."

"That's OK." Phil was quiet for a while, watching the scenery, then turned back to Clint and asked, "Do you miss women?"

"What?"

"You're bisexual, do you miss being with women?"

"For sex, you mean?"

"Yes."

Clint sat back, considering the question.

"I miss boobs. Boobs are fun. Lots of fun. With women, it's easier I guess. You can just roll a condom on and slip right in, but then again, the prep with guys can be great - it is with you."

"Thanks."

"I still look at pictures of naked women, sometimes. That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No."

"I wouldn't say I miss women. I... I would never have said that I liked guys better, but... There was always something that was just easier, more comfortable about being with a guy. When I used to think about someday having a real relationship, something that lasted, I usually thought about it being with a guy."

"I didn't know that. Why?"

"Because women are really, really complicated. I mean with guys, if worst comes to worst you can get drunk together and yell and duke it out and then you know where you stand, right? Women are just... complicated."

The cab pulled up in front of their house, and Clint helped Phil out of the back seat, and paid the driver while Phil made his way slowly up the walk, and then fumbled in his purse for the keys.

"I'll go take this stuff off," he said, once they were inside. "That is unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Never mind." Phil turned and headed for the bathroom, and Clint grabbed him around the waist and held him,

"Unless what?"

"Unless you'd be interested in me giving you a blowjob?"

"Before you change, you mean?"

"If you want. If you don't, that's fine. I just thought maybe you'd find it... interesting." 

Clint considered. Phil looked like... well, now he looked like Phil in drag. A brief image of red-painted lips stretched around his cock flashed in his mind.

"Sure. Sounds like fun. Sofa?"

Clint flopped down on the sofa while Phil kicked off his shoes and dropped his purse on the coffee table. Then he got down on his knees on the floor in front of the sofa, between Clint's legs. He smoothed his skirt down in an automatic gesture as he did.

"Let me guess, SHIELD undercover training."

"Yes. Years ago, when Jasper and I joined there were fewer female agents, it was considered... useful."

"I can see that." Clint sighed as Phil palmed his dick through his pants. He wasn't hard yet, but it still felt good. 

Phil struggled to undo Clint's pants with the fake nails he was wearing.

"Here, I'll get it." Clint unbuttoned and slid his jeans and underwear down past his knees, then kicked them off his ankles so that he could spread his legs further. Phil reached out to touch and Clint's dick twitched under the light stroking. Watching the long red fingernails on the ends of Phil's familiar strong hand close around his dick was... interesting. So was the light tickle of the strands of the wig brushing his inner thighs as Phil leaned in closer to take a lick.

Phil looked up at Clint through the long fake lashes, heavy with mascara, as he sucked the head of Clint's cock into his mouth. 

Clint grinned at him.

"I can't decide if this is really hot or really freaky. I think it's both."

Phil stopped sucking and pulled away, "Do you want me to stop?"

"Fuck no. I love having your mouth on me, Phil, you know that. If the visuals get too weird, I'll just close my eyes."

"You sure?"

"Totally sure." Clint reached down to touch Phil's face, but stopped when he remembered the make-up. 

"Here." Phil took Clint's hand and guided it to the back of his neck, then he lowered his head again.

"Ah, fuck. Phil. Yeah." Resting his hand on the back of Phil's neck, under the strands of the wig, Clint used the tiniest bit of pressure from his fingers to tell Phil what he wanted, what felt good. Phil's head bobbed, the movements all completely familiar even if the rest of the image wasn't. Watching the thick red lips slide up and down over his cock was as exciting as he had expected, and he moaned as the pressure built. He shifted his hips a little on the sofa to stop himself from thrusting, and Phil decided to take that as a challenge.

Still working Clint's cock in all the ways he knew would drive him crazy, Phil put his hands between Clint's thighs, stroking his balls gently with the tips of the fake nails. Clint moaned again, tipped his head back, and spread his legs further, almost ready to let go. Phil moved his hands to Clint's inner thighs, took as much of Clint's cock as he could, sucked hard, and raked his nails down the insides of Clint's legs. Not too hard, just enough to sting lightly. The effect on Clint was electric - he bucked up into Phil's mouth and swore,

"Fuck. Phil. Fuck!"

Phil did it again, a tiny bit harder, and Clint bucked again and started to come, pulsing strongly into Phil's mouth. Phil sucked him through the spasms, not letting up until Clint collapsed back onto the sofa, breathing hard. Phil licked him clean.

"Fuck, Phil, that was... that was good. Great. Really great."

"Good." Phil's voice was a little husky. Clint looked down.

"You OK?"

"Fine. But more than ready to get out of these clothes," Phil said climbing to his feet and heading for the bathroom. "Bras are incredibly uncomfortable."

Clint laughed. "Let me know if you need any help with the zippers or hooks or anything. I've got some experience, after all."

"Well, since you offered..."

Clint laughed again and followed Phil to the bathroom, already planning to return the favour just as soon as Phil was out of his pantyhose...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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